It Might Kill Me
by Frick6101719
Summary: Caerwyn knows that Katniss and Peeta changed the game last year when they both emerged victorious from the 73rd Hunger Games. The next year's Gamemakers need to keep the people engaged and the President happy, which will require the most exciting Games yet. Caerwyn just wants to go home, but between rule-changes, deadly Careers and unprecedented arenas, winning might just kill her.
1. Prologue

**Thanks for taking a brave look into my story, friendly fan-fiction reader. Hope you like it, and please report any screw-ups you may run into. Much love from Frick to you all.**

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"Seneca."

The dark-haired man standing in the door responded with a dry voice filled with sand. "Sir?"

"Please, come in."

He obliged, his throat constricting uncomfortably. How absurd that he, the man responsible for the death of so many would be so afraid of anyone. And how high was his kill count now anyway? A brief calculation told him seventy one. It should have been seventy-two, and he was sure _that_ little mistake was why he was now sitting down across from a less-than-impressed president.

"I'm sure I don't need to explain my disappointment in you, Seneca." The white-haired man's eyebrows raised only slightly, only enough to reveal his interest in a quick answer.

"No sir. No you don't." Seneca couldn't maintain eye contact, and felt like a coward because of it.

"Good. Then there is little else I have to say to you." Snow straightened in his chair. "Because you have been nothing but a model citizen of this country, and an excellent Head Gamemaker, I have decided that for now you will be permitted to live." He raised a hand to still the thanks about to escape Crane's mouth. "You will no longer be Head Gamemaker, and your salary will be cut accordingly. However, you will be the new Head's leading advisor, a job that I expect you to take very seriously."

The younger man's heart was beating rapidly, feeling overwhelmed with this new chance at a life he was sure was near over. "Absolutely, sir. I will do my absolute best."

The president leaned forward, eyes hard and cold. "Yes, you will. Because no matter what the citizens of the Capitol believe about those two tributes, some of the Districts see it as an act of rebellion, not of love. And defiance is a very big problem." He returned to a straight posture, straightening the rose on his lapel. "You will make these next Games unforgettable, and the Quarter Quell the following year even more so. The Seventy-third annual Hunger Games will be lost in the fabric of history, and the defiant act of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark with it. Understand me now, I will not repeat myself; in one year we must both be looking back on the best Hunger Games in seventy-four years. _Your_ life depends on that fact, Seneca." He rose, and the ex-Head Gamemaker followed immediately.

"I would dream of nothing else, sir. I'll make sure that the next Games will blow this year's out of the water." His voice had regained its strength since the beginning of their short meeting. He felt hope building in his chest, as well as a fierce desire to pour everything he had in him into the next year's preparations.

"Good. You are now expected a meeting with Plutarch Heavensbee, without further delay. You are dismissed to join him."

A dozen screens in a circular display surrounded the two men three days later. Images, simulations, notes, charts, and many things they didn't completely understand took their places before them as they spoke, faces grim, about their task.

"Do you think he'll go for it?" Plutarch asks his companion.

Seneca's experienced eyes scan the monitors one last time, a slow nod answering the older man's question. "If it's presented right, I think so."

"Then I think we should call for an audience with him." The large man stood, stretching achy limbs.

Seneca continued staring at a single line on the fourth screen. A rule change. Even surrounded by all of the other extras he and the new Head Gamemaker were planning to incorporate, the handful of words stood out.

He heard Plutarch's voice on the phone behind him, but it faded into the background as his stress level rose. Their arena would require extra work to make up for the shorter time slot, a feat not made easier by the additional surprises they had planned.

Still, none of this held a candle to that little blip. If the rule passed, it would change everything for Seneca Crane. And if it didn't work out, there would be no more Seneca Crane.

Plutarch hung up, facing his fellow Gamemaker. He said nothing, but a curt nod answered every unasked question.

Seneca already found himself forgetting his worries as he and the big man continued to work. _Seventy-one tributes,_ he thought._ And how many more?_


	2. One in Seven Hundred

**So. To all of you who picked this story because I said "Cato," and who, like me, are obsessed and maybe a little in love with his heartbreaking tragic-hero demise, welcome. I hope you're patient. **

**Part of what we all love about Cato is his complex, twisted, under-nurtured psyche, and the speed with which some fanfiction writers launch him into love stories has me cringing. He's not a guy who's going to fall in love with just anyone (Cato-Clove makes me want to jump off of tall things) and _definitely_ not quickly. So to anyone looking for a quick-fix love story, you're more liable to find tension and angst and agonising care buried beneath the story of a strong female lead kicking butt and taking names. Kind of like The Hunger Games. Weird how that works. **

**Anyway, I hope you like this. I'm not going to beg for reviews or anything embarrassing, but criticism and advice or just general comments are appreciated, and hugely, as I'm trying this story more as a writing exercise. So feel free, but not obligated, to leave comments for me, and I'll try and respond to as many as I can. **

**Now for serious. **

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I had never honestly expected to be reaped. Of course, I had never had the audacity to deny that I had slips in the bowl, but I had crunched the numbers myself. The odds of me being picked were somewhere around 0.143%. That's nearly one in seven hundred. Seven hundred! So how did I end up in the Justice Building, surrounded by three brothers, two sisters and both parents? Horrible luck, that's all I've figured out.

My little sister Brynn was bawling. She and I had shared a room our whole lives, and fought every day of it. She and I had only recently started getting along better, and now she was sure I was never coming home.

I was not. I refused to accept those four heavily-accented syllables as a death sentence. _Caerwyn Landon. _She had pronounced my first name wrong, of course. My parents had dangerously given all us kids names from the old world. It was one of those cunning acts of rebellion that were hidden all throughout my district. It was a bit of a cultural joke, how we bit our thumbs at the Capitol's ignorance and mocked them beneath their own noses. But it wasn't a joke when Rhodendra Lelless drew that slip of paper, rebellion written all over it in old Celtic letters, and called me into the Hunger Games. "Sarewen Landon," she had said. Thanks to the butchered phonetics I almost didn't know it was me she was calling.

I had almost escaped. I had been one language-lesson intervention from that cursed Mayor away from being off the hook. _"It's pronounced 'Kire-wen'" _

My little brother Griffin hugged my legs, my thighs cooling with the wet from his sobbing. _No, you're finishing what you started. _I thought, my throat tightening. _No half-jobs this time. _This time_ you come home._

My older siblings, Lowri, Nye and Brody stood by, eyes red but controlling themselves. They knew I hadn't written myself off. Hadn't I fought with them for fun enough times to prove my stubborn inability to give up? Hadn't I said as much every time we were forced to watch the games as we watched our tributes seem to give up, year after year?

I felt my nerves calming as I thought. I was logical; I knew I was still an underdog. I knew it would still take all my strength and then some to survive. But I was going to, I had to.

My family and I said our goodbyes, but I was sure to tell them I was going to try and come home. None of them sounded surprised, Lowri even smiled slightly.

"I know." She said, hugging me one last time.

"Do whatever it takes Cari." Nye said evenly. "You'll be able to do it."

I knew it would be hard for me to kill anyone. I didn't doubt that I _could_ do it, but I knew how messed up I would be after the games if I lost focus on what was important. "I'm trying to stay mentally alive here too guys." I pointed out, my voice swaying for the first time so far. _No, none of that. You can do this. _"The less I personally kill the better."

My father raised an eyebrow. "You're planning already, aren't you?"

I offered a weak smile and a nod. "Yes. I'm using every resource I have." My smile brightened slightly. "And you were always telling me my strongest asset was my mind."

He smiled slightly back, tightening his arms around my shoulders. I felt my chest shudder, violently swearing that this would not be the last time I hugged my father. I was his little girl… I would be coming home.

The peacekeepers came in then, and I heard Dad praying almost silently as we all hugged one last time.

_Protect her._

His words stuck with me even after the door closed. It was all I had left, and it was all I could do to not cry.

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My district partner has a limp.

I came close to tears again when I saw him walking, heading for the train ahead of me. His name was Jace, and although I didn't know him almost at all, I knew that the limp was new. The injustice of having to enter the arena with a long-term injury struck me, hard, and I felt incredibly sad for the boy with almost no chance to survive the next few weeks.

I couldn't kill him. I knew that the second I saw him falter on the train steps. He was here with me, even if he was against me, and he deserved better than to have a girl who might have been his friend kill him while at a disadvantage.

I pushed thoughts of the arena from my mind as our small posse boarded the train, leaving the station at breakneck speed.

In my long history with books, I had read many descriptions of incredibly lavish places, but entering the train I knew that none of them could have prepared me for the real thing. The interior was richly coloured in deep shades we didn't have much of in Ten. Thick white carpets, smooth red walls the colour of wine and accents intricately detailed in gold. Crystal hung from every light, and every surface shone reflectively like water in sunlight. Rhodendra, with her red velvet dress and shimmering white hair suddenly seemed to match the environment, and I found myself smiling at the lunacy of it all.

"Isn't it lovely?" She gushed, twirling remarkably gracefully for the size of her heels. "I never tire of all this." She motioned to the exquisite decor. "I'm sure you won't either. But just wait until we reach the Capitol! At this speed, it won't be much longer than a day and then you'll have a whole new wonderful world to get used to!" She smiled at us, sighing slightly. "It really is an incredible experience."

Jace grunted and stormed away, but I smiled sweetly back at our escort. "It absolutely is, Ms Lelless." I found it extraordinarily hard to hate people, so as a rule I tried to make friends. Even with Capitol citizens who didn't seem to understand the concept of death.

"Oh dear please! Call me Rhodendra. Ms Lelless makes me sound just... just old, and horrible!" She cast a wary glance towards where Jace had exited the train car. "By that boy's reaction, you'd think I was!"

I shook my head, passing around the room. "No, you're not awful at all. Jace probably just doesn't want to talk to anyone." I finished my tour in silence before facing the makeup mask that was our escort. "Would I be able to see my room please?"

Rhodendra looked horrified. "Oh of course! I'm so sorry I forgot to show you already." She hurried over to the door where Jace had exited. "Please follow me dear."

She led me through what appeared to be the dining car and into another, larger compartment. Jace had already been through his room, and Rhodendra left me to my own devices in mine.

I wasn't surprised this time by the incredible display of wealth in the bedroom, but it still amazed me. A canopy bed with white curtains, sky blue walls and a lightly stained hardwood floor, covered in a soft green rug.

They were the colours of home, but decorated in more silver than my entire district could probably come up with. Both realisations made my chest feel heavy, aching for the real thing. Even without all the wealth, District Ten was my home, and I missed the ranch and my family fiercely.

I ran my hand along the smooth surface of the dresser, suddenly itching to be out of my dress. I had to remember to keep moving, forward, away from memories that would bring me down and into a mindset that would bring me back to the real thing.

I changed into a pair of loose pants and a plain t-shirt, having more of a desire to be comfortable than to look good while exploring. I spent a few minutes more in my room before leaving to look around, eager to begin preparing.

The next car seemed to be where our mentors stayed, and I found myself wondering when I would see them. The car beyond that answered my question, and also rewarded me with a surprise.

"Fra!" It sounded almost like a shriek but I didn't care. I raced forwards to hug the older man, feeling happiness and maybe even hope swell in my chest.

"Hey Cari," the victor gave me a gentle squeeze before straightening his arms to look at me. "I wish I could say it's nice to see you, but..."

I smiled dryly. "I know. But how on earth did you get here?"

"I convinced Bran to let me come instead." He leaned in to whisper, "I told him I might be able to bring one home this year. He says he'll see you when you get back."

I felt a tightening in the top of my throat and knew tears could appear any moment. "Thank you." I whispered back. I looked over Fra's shoulder to see our other mentor, our youngest victor and a man I wasn't particularly fond of named Clyse. He raised his eyebrows, looking between Fra and me.

"This her Fra?" He stood, stretching long limbs draped in expensive fabric. His eyes were scrutinizing as they took me in. "What's the strategy for her?"

I had expected as much of a reaction from the over-confident twenty-seven-year-old. I stood straight and answered. "I haven't decided yet." I looked at him, a polite smile on my face. "And I'm not sure how good of an idea it is to tell you, no offense."

Clyse smirked. "I think your strategy is decided by Fra, actually. So don't worry about that."

Fra looked apologetically at his younger companion. "Actually, Caerwyn _will _be deciding. I'll help, but it's up to her."

Clyse looked aghast. "What? The tributes never get control!"

"And they don't often come home, do they?" I asked quietly. It could be dangerous to be disrespectful to a mentor, so I made sure to be looking down when I said it.

Clyse frowned. "Fine. But this can't end well, I hope you know." He warned, pointing at both Fra and I.

Fra simply nodded, used to the younger man's antics. Fra had mentored alone for nine years, nearly bringing home two tributes before Bran came along. The two of them also managed to mentor two finalists and then succeeded with Clyse after six years. Fra had since been retired for eight games, in which time Bran had picked up a slight drinking habit and no tributes had won or finalized. It went without saying that the older man knew mentoring far better than Clyse, but that never seemed to stop him from giving his opinion as if it was a precious commodity.

Although, he did have some reason to feel boastful. Clyse's games were particularly interesting. He won the year after Finnick Odair, as an eighteen-year-old who benefited from no gifts from sponsors. Finnick had won through the help of many expensive presents, but Clyse had been forced to be tricky. He had been elusive and deceitful and generally someone sponsors felt uneasy about. Winning that way has in turn made him cocky, and poor Bran has had to deal with him ever since that enormous ego boost that was the 66th games.

I looked at the victor in question, sipping from a fancy glass of something-or-other while setting up the recordings of the Reapings. I would have far preferred Bran to be here. He was always polite to me and even though he was rather quiet, he was good company. I had often told Lowri that he would make her a good husband, since even though he was thirty he looked easily younger than Clyse, and was abominably attractive. Plus, he had managed to either indirectly or directly kill all six Career tributes in the 60th Games, surprising everyone. He knew how to prove everyone wrong.

"One's looking pretty good this year." Clyse mused from his seat, nodding as a tall, dark-haired boy and a pretty blonde girl shook hands on the District platform. "I'll bet she's more than she looks." He chuckled softly, and I moved to sit beside him, Fra following.

"You're right," I could tell my concurrence surprised him, but he didn't say anything as we sped ahead to District Two. A young-looking girl with blatantly scheming eyes was reaped, followed by an absolute monster of a boy who had barely waited the required time before volunteering.

Fra frowned. "It's so awful how they do that. I can't imagine trying to tell anyone to put themselves into this on purpose."

"They believe in glory, I guess." Clyse threw back a handful of food from a tray, shrugging his shoulders as he chewed. "Besides, it looks like that kid's not exactly doing this on a whim. I'll be willing to bet that he's done his homework on winning and fully intends to do just that."

I mostly ignored Clyse as I watched the two tributes shake hands, seeming to share some sort of joke that left them both smirking slightly. "I can understand their training," I started, feeling my stomach clench as a tiny boy from Three was reaped in the next district. "If you have the chance to only have one kid die every year, why _not_ train them all?"

"But they don't train them all, Caerwyn." Fra said sadly, shaking his head. "If they did, I would agree with you. But it's the senseless sacrifice, and for what? Some skewed sense of honour? Riches? Fame? It's just not worth it."

Even Clyse agreed, staying silent as we moved on to District Four. Usually a Career district, I was surprised when the boy looked smallish and the girl merely average sized. I made a mental note to avoid underestimating them, but I didn't quite understand why they had no one stronger to volunteer.

The rest of the Reapings seemed rather uneventful. There was a twelve-year-old girl and another complete mountain of a boy tribute from Eleven, and then there was only Twelve left.

As we watched the last reaping of the day, almost live, I was shocked when another twelve-year-old girl was reaped. She walked up to the stage in shock, barely able to shake the hand of the redheaded boy who joined her on the stage, looking absolutely green.

I felt my heart wrench. Two twelve-year-olds was just unfair. They were both absolutely tiny and neither looking like they had ever held a weapon in their life. Brynn was thirteen and not particularly big for her age, but she looked practically hulking when compared with Rue and Primrose.

Primrose... something about that name brought back a memory. I searched around in the fog that surrounded the ringing bell for a few minutes before giving up on the elusive connection, deciding it must have been a character in a book I once read.

Clyse left the car once the Reapings were finished, leaving Fra and me in silence. I couldn't believe my awful luck. As if getting reaped wasn't bad enough, I had to face off against two beastly-sized boys, and two twelve-year-old girls. Plus Jace, my district partner with the limp. It would be the most physically and emotionally demanding thing I would likely ever do.

"Any ideas?" Fra asked, his kind grey eyes watching me.

I thought. "I have to be smarter than them. You remember Johanna Mason? District Seven?"

He nodded, allowing me to continue.

"She pretended to be weak. She purposely got a low score and acted incredibly foolish and naïve and generally incompetent. But she was none of those things." I thought for a moment longer. "They won't fall for that routine so shortly after her games. But I think something similar would work."

Fra nodded again, reaching behind him and retrieving a stack of books. "These are for you. I agree about being smarter than them. And you've regurgitated enough random facts from the books you've read at my house for me to know your memory will make good use of these."

I read the titles he handed to me. '_Wilderness_ _Survival 101', 'How to Look Your Fittest in Just Ten Days,' 'Your Everything Guide to the World of Edible Flora,' 'Mob_ _Mentality_,' I stopped at that last one. "'Mob Mentality?' What's that going to do?"

"The careers, and also the audience." Fra opened the first page. "It explains how to propose ideas to get the mob on your side, as well as how the mob forms and breaks apart." He looked me straight in the eyes, looking more serious than I think I'd ever seen him. "Caerwyn, I'm not going to lie to you. The kids from One, Two and Four are deadly. They _are_ your biggest threat, and they will likely be able to kill you if you give them half a chance." He took my hand in his, still not breaking eye contact. "You have to take care of them. They are easier to handle apart, so if you wait long enough and they've broken up or a few of them have been killed, you'll have a better chance of getting rid of them yourself, which you will have to do to win."

I nodded, already trying to get a strategy to take shape. "What if… what if I split them up?"

Fra's eyebrows lowered. "It would be dangerous. I'm not sure it would be worth the risk. _Unless_ you see an opportunity, I would just let nature take its course."

I saw the logic in that. But that didn't mean I wouldn't be looking for that opportunity every moment I was in those games. "Okay, I think I agree. But what about my angle then?"

Fra smiled slightly, and I felt some excitement as he pulled out a notepad from the same table that had held the books. "Here's what I have so far."

I scanned the page, my smile growing into an honest laugh as I read his description of who I was to become pre-games. "Fra, you've outdone yourself!" I shook my head, still chuckling as I handed him back the notes.

He grinned too. "I take it you're on board?"

I nodded, feeling the first real bout of confidence brush over me as I thought of the weeks ahead. It was the perfect fit for an adaptation of the Johanna Mason ploy. "Absolutely." I stood. "But if you'll excuse me, I have some training to do."

**Well, I hope you liked that. I'm awful at beginning stories, and so if you feel willing to stick with it after this I hope you find the next chapters a little more interesting. Thanks again! **


	3. Remade

**I don't know if anyone actually reads the stuff up here, but if you do, please know that I would appreciate some feedback regarding the length and content of the chapters. I tend to have issues with pacing myself with story content and how much time to give certain events and the like. So if you found that reading through the last chapter felt suspiciously like having your brain turned to much from a slow pace, or if you wish I'd given more time to certain other bits, please tell me!**

**That's all folks. Enjoy.**

As it turned out, Rhodendra was right about the Capitol. Even after feeling prepared for anything after the luxury of the train, the absolute splendour of the shining city before me practically blew me away.

It glistened like gems in the sunlight, colourful creatures that somewhat resembled humans milling about excitedly in the pristine streets. The whole of it looked like something right out of another world, and as far as I was concerned, it was.

The train slowed to a halt as my view was blocked by another tunnel. It was not as dark or gloomy as the one through the mountains, and was much shorter too. I could vaguely hear screaming crowds, and I felt nervously excited about my first impression as the new-and-improved Caerwyn on the masses.

I had finished _Mob Mentality_ already, and the hordes of information I had gathered was going to _have_ to prove useful if my strategy was going to work.

I adjusted the pale green dress around my waist as I went over my character in my mind. _I'm Caerwyn Landon, but you can call me Cari._ I looked in the mirror above my dresser, flashing a dazzling smile that was actually genuine. I _had_ to like these people. They were going to save my life, after all.

I practised walking across the room in my heels. They were only about three inches tall, and my mother had had a pair that I had worn before, but they were still a challenge. _Gracefully,_ Rhodendra had said. _You're walking like you're happy._

Evidently, emotional walking was easier with experience. The oddly dressed Capitol citizen that was our escort could practically do anything in her shoes, even at two solid inches taller than my own.

I picked up the pace of my walk, trying to appear more excited, but barely managed to keep from toppling over when I tried to slow down. I guess for me, 'happy' would have to be synonymous with 'relaxed.'

I looked at my reflection one last time before feeling the train stopping. A long night's sleep after a workout and _glorious_ shower had prepared me for my first impression. I had been subtly done up for my brief transition from train to remake centre, and I needed to make sure everything was just right. Blonde hair still in place, soft curls that an Avox girl had masterfully styled an hour earlier. Teeth that I was glad to see free of supper leftovers, though it had been delicious. And minimal makeup, making my hazel eyes look wide and bright, as well as cheeks flushed with something like sweetness. So far, so good.

I made my way to the door of the train, seeing Jace still in yesterday's Reaping outfit, wanting only to get off the train. His eyebrows raised slightly upon seeing me, so I explained.

"We're starting early on an angle." I smirked, motioning to my very feminine dress. "What do you think?" I twirled, an expression of mock excitement on my face. I was pleased to see him smiling when I was finished with my little episode. "Isn't it lovely?" I gushed, feeling more and more like Rhodendra by the minute.

His smile grew, seeing the resemblance also. "It works for you. If only _I _could pull that routine."

I knew he meant the slightly ditzy write-off, but I couldn't bear to let the mood darken. "Yeah. But I'm sorry Jace, I really don't think you'd look very good in a dress."

He chuckled. "No, you're absolutely right about that." He turned away, and I knew the discussion was over. I didn't particularly want to make him feel awkward by continuing to flaunt how hard I was trying to win, so I turned away also.

The door opened before us, and the shouting grew louder as the crowds came into view through the opening. I heard the other three members of the District Ten party step in behind us as Jace left the car. I waited until he was clear from the doorway before very nearly leaping from the train. My eyes widened, almost comically, as I did my best to look awestruck. I began waving, slowly at first, still looking with shock at my surroundings.

Only part of my behaviour was acting. The people looked absolutely ridiculous. Their skin dyed unnatural colours, their cosmetic surgeries in the name of 'enhancement,' their _ridiculous_ clothing, it all seemed as surreal to me as I tried to convey that it was.

I felt my smile growing as I made my way through the crowds. I smiled at individuals, waving at anyone and everyone. I remembered the words of the book, determined to make myself unforgettable. I blew kisses at those with whom I made eye contact, not at all sultry and all sweet.

They were screaming. I felt my ears ringing long after having left the station, the crowd's excitement giving me energy I sure didn't have.

My next step was going to be convincing my stylist to go along with the character I was trying to portray. I needed every ounce of help I could find, and I had watched enough games to know what a huge difference a stylist could make.

But first up, I needed to be "remade." I was anxious about what I would endure at the hands of my team, but at the same time I knew how many benefits there would be to a Capitol-like appearance.

I tried to keep that in mind as every single blemish I had and some that I was sure were not blemishes were removed by scrubbing, waxing, or even lasers. I felt like a pincushion, and I was sure I was becoming as red as Rhodendra's dress from yesterday.

Jinno, one of the styling team, declared me finished approximately two hours after I had had enough. She was easily the most altered person I had ever seen, and if I were to call her a human being I would be using the term loosely.

She had butterfly-wing eyelashes and tattoos all over her body. Her face had been subject to countless surgeries giving her wide eyes, pointed ears, a sloped nose, high cheeks, and generally an incredible array of extreme features. She looked like the elves I had seen in some of Fra's books, only taken to the next level.

But she knew what she was doing. Relatively quiet, she went about fixing me up like she was trying to save the world. Hollonaos and Awlee, the other two members of the team, both giggled and chattered as they worked, making me feel nervous with comments about how good I would look with skin just a little bluer or lips just a little smaller and a variety of other things that would make me look just a little freakish.

Hollonaos' green hair bounced as he practically skipped back to what I had dubbed the operation table with the hose, ready to rinse me off one last time before sending me away. "You look _so_ much better!" He gushed through equally green lips. "Just wait until Vo sees you!"

_Vo?_ I wondered, cringing as the icy water cascaded around my naked body. _I don't know if I remember him…_

Jinno took a lock of my soaked hair between her fingers, seeming pleased—though who could tell?—with my transformation. "Awlee, please make sure her hair is dry before you give her to Vo." She spoke quietly, and her voice was again struck me as surprisingly calming.

"Yep yep!" Awlee chirped, happily taking my hand and placing it on a panel beside the table. "Just drying your hair, missy. Don't worry!" She pressed a button, and the same current I had felt after my shower on the train coursed through my body. My hair was dry in seconds.

"Oh, I just love her hair, don't you Hollonaos?" She stroked my head lovingly, long purple nails gently grazing my scalp.

"I _do._" The man agreed wholeheartedly. "The colour could maybe use some enhancing—

"None of that today." Jinno shook her head, jet black hair swishing with the movement. "Vo will decide what happens with any permanence."

The other two looked a little disappointed, but quickly returned to a state of delirious happiness when Jinno told them it was time to bring in my stylist.

Apparently, it was normal for the stylist to wait until their tribute had been "given the basics" before coming to see them. I sort of understood, but I also wasn't so sure what it was about the shape of my nails and eyebrows that was so offensive he couldn't even look at me until they were fixed. I sat up on the operating table and looked around. The room was painfully clean, and it reminded me of my father's butcher shop, where I had spent so many hours with him growing up.

My heart ached a little. This time, instead of being the one preparing, I was the bird. I was the one getting cleaned and plucked and dressed in oils and lotions to be served. It seemed so ironic it was almost funny, and my stylist ended up bursting into the room to find me smiling, stark naked on the table.

The first thing I noticed was that Vo was not a he, but a she. I had thought I heard Awlee say something about 'him' when talking about my stylist, but evidently I was mistaken.

The second thing was that she was remarkably pretty. Even with evident experience in the cosmetic world of the Capitol, she looked relatively normal behind her odd colouring.

Forest green hair and eyes, creamy skin decorated in gold tattoos. Pale pink lips and too-perfect, shining white teeth with the most delicate of gold edging. I had seen that look before, but it had always looked clunky, never carefully decorative as it was on Vo.

She smiled weakly at me. "Hello Caerwyn." She stepped closer, inspecting the job her team had done on my body. "How are you?"

Her accent was so incredibly thick it made me just want to listen to her talk instead of answering. But I needed her to like me, and manners looked like they would be important to her. "I feel a little odd, to be perfectly honest. But mostly quite well, and yourself?"

She studied me, eyes seeming to search mine for any mockery. I assumed it wasn't often that a tribute was nice to her. "I am quite well also, seeing you in such good shape after remaking." Her accent didn't sound exclusively Capitol-esque, and I wondered where she had acquired a deeper, more exotic drawl.

I smiled sweetly, trying to come across as genuine. "Thank you, and I'm glad to hear you're doing well. Are you excited for this year's Games?" I stood, as she motioned for me to do.

"I am. I understand tributes are often not?"

So she was new. I thought this could be helpful in convincing her to listen to me. "Not exactly," my voice quieted. "I don't want to go into the arena at all. But if I am, I want to have a chance of winning, and I want you to help me."

She looked up at me again, handing me a robe which I gratefully accepted. "I will help you." Something about her accent on the word 'help' makes her sound determined, and a spark of hope ignites in my chest. She begins walking away, beckoning for me to follow her. We enter another room, lavishly furnished and with a table covered in steaming food waiting for us.

She motions for me to eat, and I happily oblige. Chicken covered in a creamy sauce with mushrooms, beans, carrots, corn, and rolls as fluffy and rich as clouds. I pace myself, not yet used to the rich Capitol food from the train ride, and also because I want to keep a good impression on Vo.

"Tribute costumes usually reflect their district, yes?" She asks, beginning to eat some from her own platter. "And District Ten. You are the District of Livestock." She nods, as if reassuring herself. Suddenly I wonder if she's as nervous about _her_ first impression as I am. Granted, mine is life-or-death, but she has been graciously given a district other than Twelve her first year, and her career may swing on whether she does a good job or not.

"Yes, we are." I respond, in case she was genuinely doubting. I wasn't sure how to ask her about costumes. I wanted something that would hit hard in the Capitol, but that would be forgettable for the other tributes.

"Good." She wipes her mouth on a napkin as she thinks. "My partner, his name is Paris. He is in charge of the boy tribute. And we have decided that we want to try something a little bit new."

That three letter word felt like a hit between the eyes. It either meant something very good, or something absolutely disastrous. "What are you planning?" I asked, not having to feign any interest.

She smiles for the first time and I think of how if she can make me look half as pretty as she is when happy that I'll be fine. "Cows, chickens, sheep," she dismisses them all with a wave of her hand. "Very overdone. Farmers too. What we want, is the god of all these." She looks nearly mischievous as she looks around the room. "Thousands of years ago, people had gods of everything. The gods had parts of their lives that they ruled over. And tonight, you will become the gods of District Ten."

I liked this idea. In the countless hours I had spent in Fra's home in the Victor's Village, enjoying gracious access to his library, I had enjoyed most the books from years that were ancient when Panem had not even come close to rising. The stories of gods and goddesses in those worlds were intriguing, and I knew one of the things that was typical of them was that the gods were thought to be strikingly beautiful, majestic and powerful. The citizens would love us, and the tributes would think we were silly. "I love it." I answered honestly. "I think we'll very likely steal the show." I smiled at her, and Vo seemed to blush.

"Thank you Caerwyn. I admit, I am nervous as well. I want to make a good impression on everyone, and I know the tributes do too." She stood, straightening back to the serious stylist about to get to work. "We will get started now. Follow me."

I spent the rest of the afternoon with Vo, and by the time we were finished, I was feeling even more confident about the night's activities. My costume was more than I could have dreamed of it being, and I found myself hugging the woman responsible when she proclaimed me finished.

"Thank you so much Vo. It's incredible."

"Eep! You will ruin your makeup!" she drew back, looking for any smudges, but I could tell she was just shy of accepting such praise. "You are lucky, Caerwyn. I have no time to do that all again!" She tried to look warning, but I just grinned at her.

"I _am_ lucky. But for all the work you've put in. Thank you so much." I watched as her attempt at a condescending mask crumbled and she smiled widely.

"You really like it?" She touched the fabric of my skirt gently, her voice full of pride. "Oh I am so happy I think you look marvelous too." She looked like she might cry, instead surprising me with a hug. "You are a sweet girl. I hope you win, my Caerwyn."

I felt more determined at her words. "I am going to give it everything I've got, Vo. I promise."

She pulled back, dabbing at her deep green eyes. "Good. Thank you. Now. It is time for the parade." She had composed herself again, and I couldn't help but smile at her desperate attempts at being a very serious stylist. She would have to spend some more time with Jinno first.

"Are you ready to see the world introduced to the legendary gods of District Ten?" I asked, a crooked smile on my lips.

Vo took a deep breath and nodded. "As long as you are ready to live up to that legend, yes." She began walking for the door.

_They aren't going to know what hit them._ I thought, following her out of the centre. _Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin. _


	4. Meet the Goddess

**It has come to my attention that while talking to other friendly writers up here that many people are afraid to ask if they can beta. I don't even know what that means, but I think it has something to do with like proofing and idea-tuning and stuff of that sort. I don't want someone writing a story for me, so if that's what you kind of want to do then sorry, but since this story is more about getting familiar with some characters I'm using in original stories of mine, my plot is in danger of maybe being flimsy. No good. So if you want to help, just PM me.**

**Thanks again. Hopefully I won't be talking as much as time goes on with this. **

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**_6101719: _**One smallish thing. In the books, the tributes have what I've worked out to be eight days after they are reaped before they enter the arena. For the purposes of this story, eight days is insufficient, so I've added on another week that will include days of training and also probably some interesting other twists, if I feel like it. Any other alterations will probably be made more clear in the story itself, but if they aren't I will specify them pre-chapter with another tag of 6101719.

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I meet Jace and Paris by the chariot that will carry us out into the sea of sponsors that is the City Circle, about twenty minutes away from the Remake Centre, where we are now. Our horses are a perfect tawny colour, their manes long and flowing and something about their bodies seeming to shine and sparkle in the dim light of the stable. The chariot was similar in design; ornate carvings that looked ancient and almost magical etched across the outside, the colours a variety of earthy metallics.

Looking at our costumes, I can see how well Paris and Vo have planned this out. Jace looks stunning in an outfit that is the obvious complimentary piece to my own. It was a perfect touch, I thought, having us dress similarly but not turning us into a package deal of any sort. I remembered last year's games, of the district partners who managed to escape together, and I felt another pang of sadness for Jace and his busted foot. There would be no means of escape for both tributes this year, not from Twelve or any other district. It almost hurts to keep looking at the condemned boy, but his magnificent costume manages to help.

He has a white cape that floats out behind him, seeming to give off sunlight with every movement. His outfit looks like an ancient sort of armour, but not aggressively so. The idea wasn't to look as if we were going to war with the other tributes just yet. The armour was a sky blue at the top, riddled with more flecks of light as it gradually turned into a deep green as it neared his feet, where his pants tucked into white boots. His brown hair had a look of being naturally whipped about his face, carefree, and his face had been highlighted to look strong and powerful. Every movement sent scattered drops of light around him, and the gentle colours that made up the armour seemed to intensify or fade appropriately from different angles.

I looked down at the dress I wore, feeling equally regal. It had a similar colour scheme to it, with the pale colours that glowed like the land on a bright summer day. The base of the dress shone like water, growing gradually into a rich green and then finally a sky blue, with sections so light they were almost white. The excess material was gathered over my right shoulder, clasped in place and then flowed freely over my back. The exquisite design in the fabric made us absolutely radiant, alive, and looking like we were formed from the land itself. I felt like it maybe had more to do with District Eleven, but seeing the two tributes behind us with their decorative farmers outfits reassured me that no one would feel confused.

I felt another breeze blow through as we prepared to leave, climbing into the chariot. My hair was done in gorgeous curls that had the same wind-swept look as Jace's hair did, but were also tied back with a golden pin, adding to the goddess look. My makeup brought out every attribute of my face, making me look beautiful and shine like something otherworldly.

"You look incredible." I said to Jace as he stepped into the chariot beside me.

"Thanks," He answered, offering a small smile. "So do you."

I smiled back, trying to fight the nerves wreaking havoc on my body. What if this wasn't enough? What if another stylist had come up with something better? I remembered the fiery costumes on Katniss and Peeta from last year. I couldn't imagine their stylist had even thought about quitting. "Do you… do you feel like we look distinctly District Ten?" I asked him, hesitant to share my worry.

Jace looked at me, surprised. "You too eh? I was wondering the same thing."

This didn't help me any. I knew we looked gorgeous, I knew we looked like gods, but gods of the earth could apply for a number of districts.

I didn't have any more time to speculate though, because the members of our team had started shouting and cheering, and the horses pulled away. I felt a slight tug on the bottom of my dress, and had a sickening feeling that it was going to rip, but I looked back to see Vo smoothing out the skirt and smiling up at me, erasing my worry.

And then we were off. We exited the stable at the bottom of the Remake Centre and I breathed in the cool night air, hoping it would calm my nerves. I was ready. I had no choice.

I began smiling at the crowds on both sides of the road, waving as we sped through the city. I felt my doubts ebbing away as the crowd screamed for us, throwing flowers and compliments left and right.

We had only been in the chariots for about a minute when I felt something in my dress change. I saw more light spilling from it, and suddenly there were more colours. I looked at Jace, and found him looking at me with equal curiosity. Our costumes were changing, but into what, I wasn't sure.

I didn't think it was possible, but the noise level seemed to swell as the crowds noticed our change too. I saw screens on the sides of the road and gasped when I saw what we had become.

The pale colours of our clothes were disappearing and reappearing, showing scenes of life in our district in between. Suddenly we were red, flecks of brown and white fluttering about like birds. The chickens! I realised, laughing at it all. Then there was a green pasture, horses galloping and cows grazing. I felt breathless. I hadn't known such an outfit was possible!

I snapped out of my trance and began accepting the praise of the crowd with a new fervor. I blew more kisses, I waved widely, smiling more than I thought possible after the Reaping. The crowds were chanting our names, and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude towards Vo and Paris for turning us into something so absolutely unforgettable.

I saw on the screen that I was now dotted with little puffs of white and black. A crook appeared in the folds of my gown and I figured it out. Sheep! I closed my eyes, letting the wind and the work of my stylists wash over me. I opened my eyes just in time to catch a yellow carnation, and on a whim I tucked it into my hair. The screams were deafening.

The rest of the ride passed in the same chaotic bliss. I soaked up the love from the people of the Capitol and spilled it out right back, knowing my life depended on it. I had always loved crowds of people, the energy they provided, the excitement they shared, but nothing I had ever experienced could hope to compare with this.

I was shaky standing in the chariot as we gathered in the city circle, listening to President Snow's speech. I gripped the front of the chariot tightly, trying to keep from finding myself flat on the ground at a moment's notice.

He couldn't finish his welcome soon enough. By the time we were making our way to the Training Centre, I was genuinely feeling like I might pass out.

But oh, I was excited. The emotions of the crowd had been perfect, and I prayed that the love they had shown during the last twenty minutes would last well into the next two weeks, and then into the Games.

I see Fra, Clyse, Rhodendra and our styling teams when we reach the centre. But there is another familiar face that, if possible, makes me feel even more excited.

"Bran!" I shout, leaping from the chariot into his arms.

His pale, grey-blue eyes shine as he spins me to the ground, smiling. "Hey kiddo. That was incredible! Both of you," he turns to shake hands with an also-surprised Jace. "You did an absolutely amazing job."

"Thanks." Jace says, nodding with a smile.

I am far less gracious in my reply. "Ahh I can't believe you're here! Thank you so so so much for coming… I can't even believe it. Oh wow." I feel myself getting dizzy. Having to deal with Clyse instead of Bran had been a nightmare I had not looked forward to, even with Fra making it bearable. But now that Bran was here, I realised how much I had wished he was, since he was much better at handling my over-developed sense of excitement.

Bran shook his head, laughing at me. It was standard for non-mentoring victors to attend the annual games, but not always, and nearly never with the tributes. Bran must have pulled some strings. "You're far too happy about all this. But I just got a call from Fra, and he said that Snow was disappointed I wasn't here." He leaned in to whisper, "I'm sure you can imagine how much he loves spending time with Clyse."

I laughed along with him. Whispering was completely unnecessary, as no one could have heard him if they had wanted to. We looked around at the others, noticing some looks of curious resentment from other tributes, but feeling far too high to be brought down. "I don't think I'm _too_ happy." I said, returning my attention to him. "I just didn't expect it, and to be honest, I'm just feeling really good right now." I felt my eyebrows dancing, completely of their own accord as I teased. "Don't feel like you need to give yourself too much credit for my excitement."

My ribbing was met with more laughter, and only a warning look from Vo kept Bran from ruffling my hair. "Touché. And I'll take none of the credit if that would keep you in such a good mood." There seemed to be a question hidden somewhere in his statement, and I addressed it judging by the inquisitive look in his eyes.

"Well, the happiness _does_ have plenty to do with you. But it also has a lot to do with the fact that I just... I don't feel like I'm in the Hunger Games." I admitted, taking Bran's proffered arm as we headed to the elevator. "This feels like… fun. I feel happy just being here right now. With all of this." I motioned to the crowds bubbling energetically with my free hand.

I watched Bran offer his other arm to Vo, who accepted happily. "I know. I can see that you're having far more fun than almost anyone out here except for maybe your prep team." He motioned to Awlee and Hollonaos, who were completely unintelligible as they babbled praises to Fra. Even Jinno seemed excited.

He turned back to me, smiling sadly. "But try not to forget why you're here. Try and remember your goals, because if you don't, your chances of getting home are going to disappear." He adjusted his arm so it was around my waist, and I leaned into his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you here, Cari. You're coming home with us." He winked subtly. "Besides. Our last neighbour proved a huge disappointment. We need a replacement and I think some feminism would do the Victor's Village good."

I smiled, feeling incredibly grateful for the friends around me. Fra, Bran, Vo, and even Clyse, with his tease-able personality and over-ambition, was a comfort. I looked over at Jace, limping beside his mentor, who was praising him profusely to very little reaction. I felt sorry for him. Did he feel as hopeless as he looked? I hoped not. Even if he was going to die, I didn't want him to have to live the next two weeks having already accepted that.

Bran seemed to sense my thoughts, and gave me a slight squeeze. "Chin up kiddo. I know you can do this."

I saw the boy from Two watching us as we entered the Training Centre, seemingly reminding me of what I would have to overcome to prove Bran right. I fought a slight chill as I looked away. I would not go down without a fight. I would not.

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That night, I found it hard to sleep. My mind kept replaying my conversation with Bran about forgetting about the games. Had I really been enjoying myself so much that the thought of dying had literally left my mind? It unnerved me. The fact that the Capitol was able to make this whole situation seem so much like a game that even a tribute could fall for it made me shudder.

And it was all just a sick display of power, I knew that too. There was no standing up against the Capitol. There was just doing your best to keep the air light between you, to stay on their good side. What the tributes from Twelve had accomplished last year… that was a freak accident, a one-in-a-million chance. It had to be. And they had undoubtedly suffered in some way for their rebellious act of 'love,' whether their defiance was intentional or not.

I thought of the Avoxes who served us, day and night. It was far better to be a friend of such a force, rather than an enemy. But the Capitol had no bone to pick with _me_. I ran that idea around my head for a moment. I hadn't put enough thought into anything other than my strategy against the other tributes to really think about the reason we were all here. The tributes were an obstacle, but I saw now that the Capitol was the real enemy.

I sat upright in bed at this revelation. Suddenly everything in my life seemed to shift. All this time I had been concerned with how I was going to beat the other tributes, but was there any way I could beat the Capitol?

I felt my body stay tense as I laid back down. There wasn't. Especially not this year. Anyone who defied the Capitol was subject to any number of tortures. Even if I could handle being killed, becoming a martyr or something, the idea of being forced to serve the Capitol after they killed my family… I couldn't do that. My choices couldn't do something like that to somebody else.

I shook my head as I struggled to get to sleep. I had to focus on winning the Games. That was my only option right now. _One day at a time, Caerwyn._ I thought, still restless.

After another half hour, I realised that sleep was not coming soon. I got out of bed and turned on the light, dimming it to something like twilight. I began doing some of the exercises from the book Fra had given me. I was already in quite good physical shape from a demanding lifetime on the ranch, but I would need every bit of muscle I could put on for the arena. A lifestyle involving sports and a lot of physical labour could only get me so far.

I worked on my arms and shoulders. My legs were still a bit sore from the vigorous routine on the train, so I left them alone. It wasn't long before I was sweating, breathing heavily as I mixed in a few cardio exercises.

An hour later, after another short shower and a change of clothes, I was in bed. I still didn't feel particularly tired, but my muscles were screaming and _they_ at least needed rest.

I thought of all the other tributes in the building, of the ones who didn't even have enough hope to try and train for the impending Game. I thought of the ones who did, and of what alliances would likely form in the days to follow. I knew that I wanted someone on my team, but I didn't know who I could trust. Not the Careers, I knew that, but was there anyone who could be a valuable asset who would take me?

I felt my eyelids finally getting heavy as my thoughts slowed. I guess I would just have to find out tomorrow.


	5. Deadly Advice

The fact that Rhodendra was literally _singing_ her morning wakeup around the floor would undoubtedly have been good for a laugh under better circumstances. But when a glance at the clock said that it was seven in the morning, any good-humour I might have been able to conjure up evaporated.

"Seriously? Woman, go to bed." I lamented to the canopy over my head, closing my eyes in conscious defiance as I clung to the warmth leeching from the sheets. _Not getting up, Rhodendra. Training doesn't start till ten. Good try though._ I snuggled deeper, away from the last notes of some obnoxious song in the hallway.

"Caerwyn?" Half an hour later, it was finally Vo who came to revive me. At least she had the good sense to approach the bed with quiet caution. "We need to start getting you ready."

"For what? Training isn't for another couple hours." I yawned. _Well, let me just take 'sleeping in' off of my list of advantages for being in the Hunger Games. _Despite having to get up at six for virtually my entire life, I was not used to the morning. I knew I would be fine in about twenty minutes, but until then I had all intentions of being an absolute bear.

"You told us last night that you wanted to make a specific impression. That means preparation all the time." Her accent nearly hid what sounded like amusement in her voice. Just what I needed.

I sighed. It was true. My life could very well depend on my performance around the other tributes, and that included a very specific look. I slid gracelessly from the bed, ending up lying on the floor in my pajamas, looking up at Vo. "Looking back on it now, I can see what a horrible idea that was." I moaned dramatically as I stood, emphasising a slouch as I made my way towards the bathroom. "I better look pretty fan-freaking-tastic if I'm getting up _this_ early to start." I began brushing my teeth as I hear Vo setting up in the bedroom.

Mere minutes later I was hypothetical putty in her hands. My hair was washed, and sprayed, and subjected to a foul-smelling paste that was washed out after a blissfully short time. And this all before Vo even began styling it. Then it was sprayed some more, and cut, and finally dried and curled. Sprayed again for good measure.

This all took the better part of an hour, and the rest of my body was untouched. Thankfully, there was no waxing or anything painful that needed done today, thanks to my incredibly long session with the team yesterday, but that didn't mean I didn't need rubbed and greased and yes, sprayed, with more substances today. My nails were redone, my makeup brushed on, and I even got to stick something gooey onto my teeth for fifteen minutes before I was declared fit to be sent off for training.

But when it was all finished, and I saw the person Vo had sculpted from what used to be Caerwyn Landon, I knew it was worth all of my suffering. My blonde hair was a shade sunnier, warmer and brighter in the light. It had been cut to frame my face perfectly, with long layers and forehead-sweeping bangs. The curls had been softened into gorgeous waves that added volume, bringing out my well-drawn features even more. Features like rosy cheeks, soft lips, wide, bright eyes and eyebrows in a shape that can only be described as clueless.

In short, I looked adorable, endearing, and hopelessly out-of-place. _Perfect._

The tributes would ignore me. I wasn't irritating, I wasn't aggravating, and I sure wasn't threatening. I was easily able to be overlooked, and that was exactly what I wanted to be.

Rhodendra shot me a very pleased smile as she led Clyse and Jace to the elevator doors. The former looked me up and down, his expression unreadable, whereas the latter offered a half smile, mentioning that the shade of blue-green of my shirt was his favourite colour. Fra and Bran joined us a moment later, and without much else by way of conversation we were off.

The elevator ride was short, I'm sure, since it usually was, but the tension and nerves in the car made it seem unbearably long. I felt my stomach flipping around and I wondered how much of the queasy feeling could be blamed on the speed at which we were dropping.

_Get a grip Caerwyn._ I straightened my shoulders. I often got nervous in situations like this, but I knew as well as anyone that the Hunger Games were as good a time as ever to kick old habits. _It's life or death,_ I reminded myself, _and all you have to be is social. You _are_ social, remember? You don't shut up. Good. Now is not the time to stop being a chatterbox._

Surprisingly, my less-than-inspiring pep talk to myself gave me a bit more confidence. After all, I was right. The character I was supposed to be portraying was like an over-the-top version of Caerwyn in a good mood. I would just have to be in a good mood, that's all.

A dozen pairs of eyes boring into my person as I entered the training room made a good mood seem less and less possible. I stuck a smile on my face, feeling my cheeks ache instantly from their awkwardly fake position. The other tributes seemed to be rolling their eyes at me, a fact that for once improved my morale considerably. I smiled bigger, enjoying the looks of disgust they were donning before turning away.

_There is something fundamentally wrong with this._ I resisted the urge to smirk. Things were going in a way that would have irritated me in a different set of circumstances, but having the tributes think I was a few cards short of a deck couldn't have made me happier right then.

In a few minutes the training gym held all twenty-four tributes, who were doing a remarkable job of being awkward around each other. We all stood in a shifty cluster, waiting silently until an instructor named Atala began her rather morbid introduction.

"Look around you." Though her voice was calm, it was a definite order. "The tribute to your right, the tribute to your left. The only way you will be alive in three weeks' time is if they are both dead. Look beyond them. Those tributes? You need to outlast them also." Her hard brown eyes scanned the crowd of teenagers before her. "Twenty three of you will need to die for one to live. If you're relying on luck, you will be one of the twenty three. Your greatest chance of being victorious in these Games is to listen to us instructors. You will need to listen _especially_ closely to the survival skills, as anywhere from three to eight of you are likely to die from natural causes. You will need to know how to survive, as well as how to kill." She directed this statement at the group of Careers to my right. Many of them lifted their chins or crossed their arms defiantly, giving off the impression that this information was beneath them.

But Atala didn't let them stop her. "That said, it is encouraged that you all learn proficiency with at least one weapon. In the event that you are a finalist, you can't expect to simply outlast your competitors without confrontation." It may have been my imagination, but I felt like for a great portion of that speech she was looking at me. "Just because these are Games doesn't mean they're easy." Her stare leveled the entire group of us, and if it was possible, we got quieter. "Just remember that. And may the odds be ever in your favour."


	6. Don't Eat the Berries

The first day of training did little if not inform me on just how difficult it was to play the idiot while trying to learn. By lunch I had succeeded only in discovering that I needed to brush up on my edible plants. I had killed myself exactly four times, from a variety of painful poisons.

I had spotted Rue and Primrose sitting by themselves in the dining room off the gymnasium and decided to join them. Plopping down gracelessly on the bench beside the small girl from Twelve, I tried not to cringe when she jumped. _Not going to hurt you kiddo, don't worry. _I wanted to tell her. But this was the Hunger Games. There were no guarantees.

"Hey!" I smiled sweetly at them. "My name's Caerwyn, you're Primrose and Rue right?" I dipped a carrot into a white creamy sauce, popping it in my mouth.

The dark-haired girl across from me nodded politely. The blonde beside me spoke so quietly I could have easily missed it. "Prim."

"Prim? Oh I like that name." I tried to make it sound as genuine as I could, which wasn't hard when her name continued to ring familiarly inside my head. "I have a proposition for the two of you, actually." I didn't make eye contact as I chewed on a celery stalk, pushing away the nagging feeling. "But I'm not sure how safe it is to talk here." I laughed a little, and the girls looked a little nervous.

"What is it about?" Rue asked, slightly hesitant.

"Oh you know," I looked at the tributes around us out of the corners of my eyes. No one was watching us. Good. "An alliance." My voice had lost its slightly higher pitch, grabbing their attention. "I'm dead serious." My voice was low, but I punctuated with a loud laugh that earned me a few looks from around the other tables.

Rue just looked at me, her young face surprisingly masked as she assessed what appeared to be a rare species of lunatic before her. "I don't know where we can go to talk that's safe." She looked genuinely apologetic.

"The roof." Prim was still nearly silent, and jumped every time I did something loud and obnoxious, but hadn't hesitated with this information. "My stylist showed my district partner and me last night. No one would hear us, I don't think."

I nodded, flashing a toothy grin. "Oh you two are the _best_. Thank you so much." I continued eating, offering bits of friendly conversation here and there until a bell sounded, announcing time to return to training.

I gave the girls their space after that, making my way to the knife throwing station. It hurt, seeing the array of sharp tools available. When my father's knives in the butcher shop would get too dull for him to use, he would let Fra and Bran take them and teach us kids how to throw. I knew exactly what I was doing, even if these weren't the same as the knives I'd used at home. I hadn't often used the same knives more than three times, so I was used to adapting. But adapting throwing at a target on a wall to a child's throat? Less confident about that.

Remembering my interest in looking mediocre, I aimed for the dummy's right shoulder. It would look like I was aiming for the chest target, but had missed.

I remembered my lessons, releasing the knife blade at just the right time. It was remarkably easier than the old butcher knives, and I was delighted to find the blade sticking right where I had aimed it; the slight smudge above the armpit.

I threw some more, using a variety of different knives, making sure none of them looked like I was particularly good at the skill. In reality, even _I_ was amazed at how good I was. Every hit was perfectly placed, and I found myself itching to discover if I could hit trickier targets, like ropes, or moving objects.

I moved on to the fire starting station reluctantly, not noticing the curious glances from Rue and Prim as I replaced the blades.

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"So, you're not as bad as you're pretending to be, are you?" Rue's question was paired with a knowing smile, and I found I liked her cleverness more by the minute.

"No, at least I hope not." I chuckled slightly. "But don't tell anyone, please. I was on the train two days ago when I was talking plans with my mentor. We thought my best strategy would be to be underestimated. Not the same way as some others before me, but more like that I _thought_ I was pretty good, but really," I shook my head with a grin. "Not so much. But I still want allies, and I want you two. As long as you'll help me maintain that… image."

They both looked like they seemed to understand, "because they underestimate us too." Rue said, no self-pity in her voice.

"Exactly," I said solemnly. "And because the three of us are going to give the others a big surprise by being as strong as we are." I was confident in Rue, but unsure about Prim. I had seen her balking at the massive Careers butchering dummies left right and centre earlier, and needed to know if she could be counted on to keep her head. I leaned forward, resting my hands on my crossed knees. "So, you guys already know what I can do, more or less, but I know you've got skills too. Care to fill me in?" I closed my eyes at the soft breeze rustling over the rooftop. The chimes above our heads breathed out delicate music. I would _definitely_ be coming here more from now on.

"I can use a slingshot, climb trees, and I know what food is and isn't poisonous." Rue said, her innocence not letting her words be mistaken for boasting.

"I can heal." Prim spoke up, the barest tracings of a smile on her sweet face.

This surprised me, but I was grateful. And Rue knowing how to keep me from eating poisonous berries would come in handy, if today was any indication. "This is really good. _Really _good." I felt my mind spinning possibilities already, but it was hard to strategize without having a clue what the arena would look like. If there were trees, I wanted to be in them. If there was water, I wanted to be near it. If there were mountains, I wanted to be on them. I tell them this, and for the next half hour we all just sit there, speculating about the arena and becoming comfortable with each other. I even coax two small laughs out of Prim with what stupid comments slip through my filter.

But all too soon it was time for us to leave, before anyone came looking for us. "Just remember, we can't look like we're plotting, ever." I said, holding the door for the two of them. "You're both mostly scared but trying, and I'm making a fool of myself pretending to be useful." I smirked as I followed them down the stairwell.

"Got it." Rue said, giving Prim a quick hug when we reached the twelfth floor. Prim surprises me by hugging me too. I hug her back tightly, knowing how oddly inconsistent my relationship with physical touch can be, and not wanting to ruin this. She releases her arms from around my ribs and there's a stubborn set to her jaw that reminds me of Brynn. My chest clenches.

"Thank you for helping us Caerwyn." She says. Her lip quivers as she speaks, but only slightly, and I feel proud of her.

"You're welcome." I know it's the wrong thing to say. I know that there is no place for any of this in the Hunger Games. But I also know that these two girls stand so little chance without me, and I know that I can't bear the thought of their lives ending any sooner than I could help.

Rue and I continue down the stairs, reaching her apartments in virtually no time at all. She also hugs me, but this time I'm ready for it. "You can win, you know." She says quietly.

Stinging. I refuse to even let crying be an option. "I don't know Rue. Losing is a horrible thought, but there is a huge price to winning too." I look in her big brown eyes when she steps back. "I don't know if my head can handle that."

She offers a kind smile. "Maybe not your head, but your heart's pretty strong. I'll bet _it_ could handle winning." She opens the back door to her quarters. Before I can say anything, she slips inside, leaving me feeling touched and thoughtful at her words.

They are all I can think about during dinner, even with all of the delicious food covering the table. _My heart?_ It was always a part of me I never trusted. My emotions were something I understood, so I knew how fickle they were. Logic was my friend, and my ability to think things through had been my biggest strength in keeping myself safe. My whole life, I had made decisions based upon what I knew, what I could think about and rationalize. The thought of all of that – years of habit and experience—not being enough? But my _heart_? Surely it would never be the help I needed.

I hadn't realised that the peas in my mouth tasted like plastic. I swallowed, taking a long drink. I looked around the table, eyes resting on Fra as I wondered if this was something I could talk to him about.

I didn't get the chance to find out, because apparently Vo and Paris needed to discuss something important with him and Clyse. So instead I just went to my room and snacked on something delicious called dark chocolate as I read about the different leafy plants that I could use for sources of food.

It was in that relaxed state that Bran found me. He followed his knock into my room, smiling politely and closing the door gently behind him. "Hey Caer." He came and sat down beside me on the floor, accepting a piece of chocolate with a grin. "Good stuff huh?" looking over my shoulder slightly, he asked how I was feeling about training.

I briefly explained my behaviour that day in the gym, saving the part about the alliance until last. I wasn't sure about mentioning Rue's comment about me winning, but I decide I can save it. I would think about it a little more with only my own mind first.

Bran nodded when I finished. "I think you made the right choice."

I hadn't maybe expected that reaction from him. He had won without any allies, after all, and I had thought there was a pretty good possibility that he wouldn't quite understand. "Thanks." I said, half smiling.

"Do you think the other tributes are buying your act?"

I nod after a short moment. "I have no reason not to. I've consistently been a more or less incompetent, too-confident ditz, after all." I roll my eyes with a quiet laugh. "I could practically feel my brain turning to mush by the end of it."

Bran grins, his voice lightly teasing. "Fra told me that. He was watching for a part of it, and he said you were a perfect idiot the whole time."

"Oh please Bran, nobody's _perfect._"

He barks out a laugh as I wave away his non-compliment with no modesty whatsoever. "You're something else. I don't think there's ever, in the history of the Games, been a tribute with the attitude you've managed to keep up." He looks at me, still smiling, but serious. "How do you do it?"

I shrug slightly, "I don't know. I guess I just try to stay in the right frame of mind. If I die, I don't want the last days of my life to have been miserable, but I still try to remember that it's important to at least try and be serious enough to give myself a shot at living." I shrug again. "It's just finding that balance."

"And cracking jokes constitutes being 'serious enough?'" He raises an eyebrow.

I stick my tongue out to the side, catching it in a smile. "Yep. For me, anyway."

He shakes his head. "You're pretty different Caer. Not bad though. Not bad at all." He seems to remember something, reaching into his pocket. "I have something for you, actually." He pulls out a small drawstring bag made out of velvet. "I was supposed to give this to you yesterday, right when I saw you, but I forgot." He pulls out a shiny silver ring, glittering in the soft light of my room. "Your family said it was too much, but when they mentioned you never got a token, we knew we had to."

Looking at the ring hurts, even more when I know that the 'we' means him and Fra. The silver band is interrupted by a row of colours, precious stones set even with the metal. I know this must be because rings in the arena are such a tricky thing. The sharpness of a stone can be considered an unfair advantage, but with an even surface, I'll have no problem.

My breath catches as I realise something about the pattern of stones. There are eight of them, just like eight members of my family. The colours are what really bring that to light though.

In District Ten we have a tradition about birthdays. Each month of the year has been given a colour, and any time a baby is born, their first gift is in the colour corresponding to their month of birth. It's said to be good luck; that it will carry them safely to their next birthday, where their first gift will also be that same colour.

The colours in my ring match the colours of my family. First, a royal blue, for my father. Then my mother, Lowri, Nye, Brody, myself, Brynn, and finally Griffin, with their stones of deep red, pink, white, pale yellow, navy, red again, and finally a light green. I fight new tears, wondering if these games will crack me. I haven't cried in over a year, but I had never dealt with emotional trauma like the looming death of twenty-three children and incredible sentimentality from nearly a dozen of the people closest to me. Those seemed like the circumstances where people break down.

I looked up at Bran, not sure what I could say to appropriately convey my thankfulness. Before any words can escape my mouth though, he gives a small smile and hugs me.

"We're all rooting for you kiddo." The words are soft, right beside my ear and I feel moisture rising in my eyes that takes enormous strength to control.

"Thank you." The emotion leaks out in my voice, and I hug him tightly back, almost too overwhelmed to let go.

Bran leaves after that, and I hear him talking to the others in one of the main rooms for a few minutes before I decide to do some exercises and then head to sleep early. My mind succumbs to its weariness almost the second my head hits the pillow. But not quite quick enough for me to miss the faces of Rue and Prim's families, frowning down at me through teary eyes.


	7. In Which Boredom Costs Two Fingers

**6101719:** here is the explanation for the longer prep time, as well as the first major change to the main structure with the introduction of a new event. The new event will actually take place in the next chapter, but here is where it appears and will probably cause some confusion. That's all for now.

* * *

The rest of the first week of training progressed almost lazily from that point. Every day consisted of the same basic structure of getting up, getting made-up, and getting to training. Dinnertime consisted of loud conversations that usually ended in an argument between Bran and Clyse, who were both had usually drank_ just _enough to avoid taking each other's insults to heart. And as much as I enjoyed every minute with those who I had dubbed my Capitol Family, by Friday we were all exhausted. Training was demanding, Rue and Prim were heartbreaking, and my studies were beyond taxing.

But my tiredness could not excuse my actions Friday afternoon. I should have been more careful, more disciplined, and definitely smarter.

We were down in the gym, twenty four tributes who were an hour and a half away from being released for the weekend off mandatory training. And nineteen of us just wanted to be dismissed early. I was one of those nineteen.

The Careers had taken the opportunity provided by our lethargic behaviour to figuratively push our faces in the dirt. Since nineteen of us were moving around with all the energy of dead slugs, the five of them decided today was the day to practice against the instructors.

Rue, Prim and I sat on the mats by the knife range as Marvel, the boy from District One, sparred with the most massive of the male experts. I was thoroughly impressed, if not also thoroughly depressed, at his ability to hold his own when I knew that a sword was not his weapon of choice.

I was trying to focus instead on the detailed differences between nightlock and blueberries, a page from _Edible Flora_ that I had read at least three times, when a movement from Rue caught my eye. She and Prim had stopped learning to throw knives sans-instructor and were staring wide-eyed at the spectacle at the sword station. Rue had just reached over to pat Prim's hand gently, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. Here I had been, thinking only about stupid plants and how much I'd like to be somewhere else, when two twelve-year-olds were facing down their potential executioner right beside me.

I turned to them, forcing a smile. "Let's not watch that, huh?" I took a knife off of the stand behind Rue and rubbed the handle with my thumb. I flicked the blade across my body, embedding it in the forearm of a dummy eight yards away. It was purely selfish; I hadn't been trying to improve the girls' spirits any, but when I saw Prim's face soften the slightest fraction I wondered if my restless behaviour was in any way hopeful.

I looked back over to the Careers. Most other tributes had stayed away from this station because of the dark-haired girl from Two, Clove. She was a terror with the blades in her hand, and had a temper that could clear a room. But she was intently smirking at the fight before her, and definitely wasn't concerned with a few tributes from outlying districts playing with her toys.

I took another knife off of the rack, testing its weight as I whispered to the girls. "Second from the right. Left shoulder." I released the blade, and it landed exactly where I had said it would, ten yards away.

It felt good. I hadn't been able to seriously throw since Tuesday; the first day we were in the gym. My fingers itched to throw more.

"Middle, right thigh." I threw again, this one harder since I was still sitting down. But it flew straight to its target, and earned me a real smile from each of the girls.

"How did you learn to throw so well?" Prim asked delicately.

"My dad's a butcher, and he let one of the Victors teach us with the old blades that he couldn't use anymore." I told her, reaching for another knife. "These are _so_ much easier to throw though. I never knew I could actually be good until I got here." I kept my voice low, raising my body to a crouch as I aimed for a dummy nearly thirteen yards away. "Third one in, right side of the stomach." _Thud._ Another bull's-eye.

Rue and Prim looked significantly more relaxed, the latter even daring to glance over to where Marvel shook hands with the instructor, letting his district partner have her turn with one of his slighter companions. Her face didn't show any of her previous worry.

I grinned, not noticing that Prim's weren't the only pair of blue eyes spanning the gap between the two groups. I picked up another blade, rolling it in my palm as I searched for a new target. My eyes came to rest on the hand of the dummy ten yards away. I whispered to the girls, "think I could take off one of the dummy's fingers? See that one, second from the right?"

Rue's face lit up in a mischievous smile, nodding slightly. Prim said nothing, but watched intently as I prepared to throw.

The first and second fingers of the dummy's right hand were on the floor five seconds later. Prim and Rue pretended to applaud, still staying silent to avoid attention. I bowed slightly, grinning back at them. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week."

They giggled, and we continued in our state of quiet relaxation even as the other Careers took their turns fighting. The three of us felt a little more confident, and for a Friday afternoon even a little more felt like a beam of hope.

A short while later the bell rang, dismissing us from training for the weekend. I gathered the small pile of knives that had accumulated beside me, wishing a good weekend on Rue and Prim as they left with their district partners.

"I'm telling you, she's not what she looks like."

"Seriously? It's going to take more than some bad showing-off before I believe she's even a threat."

My ears perked up to the voices of the Careers, talking a short distance away but obscured from view by the knife rack I was crouched behind.

"It wasn't showing off. She looked _bored._" The first voice again. Distinctly dark and masculine. Commanding.

"She missed every time." A third voice, sounding feminine and sarcastic.

"I think she was trying to." The first voice again.

A trill of a laugh preceded the return of the second voice. "Really? Why on earth would she do that?" I assumed this was the girl from One, Glimmer, simply because the high voice seemed to fit.

"Because she's supposed to be an idiot." A second male voice, questioning but thoughtful.

I knew they were talking about me, and it made my blood turn to ice. The longer I stayed here, the angrier they would be if they saw me. But if I moved, there was no chance of them not seeing me.

My mind raced, trying to think my way out. I looked at the knife rack in front of me, testing its stability. I closed my eyes at the moronic idea that popped into my head. With a heavy sigh I placed my hands on the board with the knives strapped in, pushing it over and pulling a loud shriek from my lips.

The large rack crashed loudly to the floor, and me on top of it. Knives flew in every direction, clattering on the floor as if applauding my display. Their blades scratched my arms, but they were dulled slightly to keep the tributes safe, and I was rewarded only with scratches.

Every pair of eyes in the gym turned to look at me, and I felt heat rising in my cheeks as I scrambled to right myself and the knife rack. One of the Careers started laughing as I did so, and soon all of them had joined in. All of them, that is, except the monstrous boy from District Two. He looked angry.

I quickly made sense of the situation. He was the first voice, the one trying to tell them I was a threat. _Sorry buddy. _My lips twitched in an apologetic smile in his direction. _They won't be laughing at us in two weeks._

I smoothed out my outfit as I stood, running from the room in attempt to appear as embarrassed as I should have been. But all I saw were the faces of the other Careers, distorted in mirth as they mocked me. I smirked to myself as I disappeared into the elevator. _This is a new level of idiot, even for you Caer. _I thought to myself. _You need help._

I reached the tenth floor and turned to face my team, a foolish grin still stretched across my face. I went to explain but was interrupted by Jace entering the foyer behind me.

"Caerwyn, what on earth just happened?" He looked comical, with his eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.

I laughed. "I heard the Careers talking about me, but I was hidden behind the knife rack. I didn't want to make it seem like I was spying, and the easiest way out of that situation that I could think of was to knock over the stand."

"And fall on it." Jace added, still looking at me like I was the biggest idiot in the known universe.

"In front of everyone." I finished. "It was a mess. If there was any doubt about me being a complete moron, I think it has been thoroughly abolished."

The three mentors and Rhodendra just stared at me, smiles slowly cracking their faces. Rhodendra looked horrified, but didn't want to be missing out, and Bran and Fra were barely keeping themselves in check. Clyse was splitting his sides laughing.

"Genius!" He held up his hand and I high-fived him, not sure if he was being sarcastic or not. "In all honesty, that was at once the best and stupidest thing you could have done and I would kill to have seen the Careers' faces when it happened." He continued to laugh, shaking his head. "What were they saying about you?"

I grinned. "One of them was trying to tell the other five that I was a threat. It sounded like they were divided on the subject but then—

I was interrupted by a guffaw that escaped simultaneously from Bran and Clyse. Fra looked like he was about to start, and Rhodendra even smiled more genuinely.

"I guess they're not so divided now then huh?" Jace added with a grin.

I shook my head. "No they are not. They all think I'm cracked, I'm sure."

We migrated to the dinner table, all still with wide smiles stretched across our faces. We were all still in good spirits when halfway through the meal, an announcement came from the main floor.

Rhodendra read aloud the sheet of paper the Avox handed to her. "Dear Tributes, Mentors and Representatives of District Ten, greetings from the Gamemakers of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games." Rhodendra raised her pale eyebrows. "This year, as you may have noticed, the period between the Reapings and the beginning of the Games themselves was extended for the purposes of the Capitol's enjoyment. The Capitol citizens always find themselves getting incredibly attached to the tributes, and it was to our delight that we were able to provide them with further opportunities to interact with the young people. Tomorrow morning at precisely nine o'clock, a train will be leaving for a stadium near the edges of the Capitol, where District Teams will be taken for a special sporting event non-relating to the Games. The stadium will be filled with prospective sponsors, eager to get a glimpse of the substance of this year's competitors. There is a zero-risk factor regarding the safety of the tributes. All tributes are greatly encouraged to attend this event, as the outcome may help a tribute be prepared for the actual start of the Games. We hope to see everyone there, and may the odds be ever in your favour." Rhodendra carefully folded the paper, creasing it with her long, gold nails. "Sincerely, Plutarch Heavensbee and the Gamemakers."

The table was silent for a moment before Clyse pounded the table with his fist. "Well I'll be damned. I say this is all just a big ploy for more money to fund the Games."

"They have to go, Clyse." Fra said patiently.

"No they don't." He insisted, brow furrowed. He pointed at me, "take your girl here. She's got a _strategy._ Sending her to this, whatever it is, will likely throw all of that right out on you. Both of you." He added, motioning to include Bran.

"There'll be sponsors." I mentioned, hoping to cool him down a little. "And they said a zero risk factor, right? That probably means no weapons. If I was to guess, they want us testing our athletic abilities against each other, without it actually being against each other. Things like running and jumping and climbing."

"Things that are revealed when they do the obstacle course in training anyway." Fra pointed out. "But no one sees what goes on in the Training Centre Gym. This is them showing those skills off to the public."

"It's foolish."

"It is _not_ foolish." Rhodendra snipped. "Plutarch Heavensbee is a smart man, and Seneca Crane has gamemaking in his blood. If they have chosen to add this event into the fabric of the pre-game set-up, then it is for a good purpose."

"Rhodendra is right." Fra assented. "They wouldn't add it just for something to do. Goodness knows Seneca Crane is on thin ice for last year's Games, and won't be making any hasty decisions this time around."

Somewhere throughout the course of the conversation, I noticed Bran refilling his glass of wine, twice.

Clyse frowned. "I'm still not so sure," Bran took a long drink, Clyse jerking his thumb towards Jace and me, "If this hurts these two, then their chances are gone. As is they're going to need all the help they can get."

"Which is exactly why we _have_ to go." I responded. "I'm sure we can find a way for us to look good for the sponsors while keeping up our angles."

"I agree with Caerwyn." Jace said quietly. "I want to go."

I smiled warmly at him, turning a much harder stare on my district partner's mentor. "At the end of the day I think it should be our decision. It's our lives on the line, and it's only fair that we get some control. If we can't maintain a strategy while impressing the sponsors then that's our fault and our funeral. I think we should go." I sat back in my chair, my expression passive and my words daring. I saw a sparkle of admiration in Bran's slightly clouded eyes, and fought the urge to grin back.

"Alright then." Clyse said, tight-lipped. "But I take none of the blame if this doesn't go well, alright?"

"Absolutely none." Fra and I chorused.

"Good." Clyse shovelled a forkful of beans into his mouth, effectively ending the discussion.

Later that evening, Fra called Paris and Vo to tell them about the next day's events. Needless to say, they were excited about showing us off for Panem again, and promised they would be up bright and early to tend to our appearances.

I was less than excited about another early morning, but I knew that this one was particularly important, since I was not only going to be seeing the other Tributes but the Capitol as well. I granted myself an early bedtime to compensate, falling asleep to the sound of Bran and Fra talking outside my door.


	8. A Different Kind of Game

**First real Cato-Caerwyn interaction in this chapter, just for the heads up. There are a few pieces of this chapter that are rather dear to me actually. For starters, the game that the Tributes play is loads of exhausting fun, and if you ever get a chance to try it out you most definitely should. Secondly, the conversation between the two of them is very similar to conversations I have had/heard while playing a variation of that game and it brings back some great memories. I hope that in some way you can understand the dynamic I tried to get going between the two of them through such a unique situation. Any questions or comments are welcome! You know where to find me.**

* * *

I had almost forgotten how much prep it took for me to become "publicly presentable." Almost. But after a two-hour grooming session with Vo and the team, I was sure I would never forget again.

Makeup. Makeup _everywhere._ This time it was of a slightly lighter variety, fluffier and more shimmery. If I was to take a wild guess I would say that was because I was going to be running around and doing active things instead of standing in a chariot, but I wasn't ruling out the possibility that matte skin had become horribly unfashionable in not quite a week.

A few strands of hair were pulled from my eyebrows, a coat of something delicious-tasting on my lips. Foams brushed across my skin, shades of beige, brown and pink bringing out my best features and even making the lesser ones look good.

I looked at the finished product that was my face in the mirror when I had been completed. It was much more subtle than the chariot-ride look, with less extreme features and more of a calculated innocence. Sweet cheekbones, sparkling green-hazel eyes and warm, gentle skin tones. I liked this look. It was more than the everyday training face, but less striking and extravagant than the goddess the crowds met on Monday.

I made sure not to skip breakfast this morning, finding myself reverting to old habits on the farm and eating a conscientious breakfast of protein-rich foods. I cringed as I saw Clyse loading up his plate with muffins and a heavenly dish called French toast, feeling my stomach aching for the breads that I knew would be sitting like rocks in my stomach later.

I finished eating as quickly as I could after that, finding a worse-for-wear Bran just emerging from his room at eight thirty.

"Hey." He said bleakly. "You look pretty."

I half smiled at him. "Thanks. You look like you should have stopped after one refill last night."

He nodded. "Not the worst I've dealt with in my… _relaxing_ mentoring experience. But I'm a baby for headaches." He massaged his forehead, looking more like a teenage boy than a thirty-year-old Hunger Games Victor.

"Rhodendra would know where to find some meds for that, I'm sure." I stepped around him, heading to my room to get dressed. "Wouldn't want you pulling a Haymitch Abernathy in front of everyone now, would we?"

"It's not _that_ bad!" he protested. "But thanks for your concern."

"Anytime!" I called over my shoulder, smiling at the memory of District Twelve's colourful mentor. It had been last year that he had fallen off the stage at the Reapings, but talk to any of the escorts and it might as well have been yesterday. It scared Rhodendra of the Coal District so badly that she paled slightly anytime someone mentioned them. I was pretty sure the very thought of being moved to that district gave her nightmares.

I found clothes already laid out for me upon returning to my room. Loose black shorts of a film-like material reaching my mid-thigh, and a white t-shirt made out of soft, stretchy material.

They definitely felt like they were designed for movement. But that was to be expected. And beyond that I didn't expect to be able to read much more into the clothes.

I got dressed and donned a pair of cool-looking shoes designed for running. Making my way back out to the foyer, I noticed Jace was wearing the same thing as me, only his shorts were longer, and of a material that looked slightly different.

His mouth curved into the barest of smiles as we boarded the elevator with Rhodendra. Apparently our mentors would be joining us closer to departure time.

"Aren't you two excited to be a part of this event?" Her voice was hopelessly breathless. "You're the first year to ever get such an opportunity. You very well might be deciding the fates of Tributes in years to come today!" She placed a hand on each of our shoulders, her long nails barely brushing the fabric. "I'm so proud of you both. I'm sure you'll represent District Ten very well today." She smiled at us, her perfect white teeth almost glowing against her deep crimson lips.

I smiled back, knowing Jace wasn't likely to say anything. "Thank you. It's all pretty exciting! Are you coming to watch?"

She looked shocked. "Well of course! Someone has to keep those rascals upstairs in line, and I fear Fra may need the help. And of course I always love to cheer on my Tributes every chance I get."

I was touched. "Thanks Rhodendra. I'm sure we'll both be doing our best to make everyone look good." I think that would be considered a compliment in the Capitol. It sounded enough like something she would say.

The elevator door chimed and soon we were out in the lobby, surrounded by Tributes dressed in black and white. Atala stood on a small platform leading out of the Training Centre, looking down at the group of us with a calculating expression.

It was mere moments before we had been organised. We were to be divided into three teams for the event, and naturally everyone was anxious to get a look at their new companions. We stood side by side in the same order we would do our interviews in. Atala counted down the line, starting with the girl from One and finishing with the boy from Twelve. I found myself on a team with three of the six Careers, and the massive boy from Eleven to boot. We boarded the train as a group, exchanging awkward introductions. I saw the other two teams doing the same thing, noticing also how even the teams had come out. Four boys and four girls on each team, each tribute seeming to pick up where the others left off regarding size or expected strength.

All things considered, I felt pretty good about my team. I knew all their names already, but pretended to be pleasantly interested in the hand shaking and name-exchanging going on around me. Glimmer, Cato, Sorrel, Kyde, Erika, Domas, myself, and Thresh.

The train ride to the stadium was unsurprisingly short. It was the interior of the building that was surprising.

A small circle of white dotted the centre of the field, about a foot in diameter and stark in its prominence. Three white chalk lines expanded from it like spokes on a wheel, all the way to the padded edges a good fifty yards in either direction, dividing the field into three equal wedges. Just under ten yards from the wall in each wedge was a circle filled with about twenty fist-sized wooden balls, coloured yellow, red, and blue. The circle was outlined in chalk also, and was about four yards in diameter.

The field was unlike anything I had seen for any sport or game I had ever heard of. I looked around at the faces of the other Tributes, noticing that their perplexed looks matched my own. _No advantages there, I guess._

"Would each team please enter their section of the field, and I will explain the game." Ifan, a tall blond trainer ordered. We all made our way to the wedge chalked with our number, waiting.

"This is a three stage game. The first stage is played on the field you see before you, and will last one and a half hours. The second stage will be played after a very brief rest and consultation period, and will last only twenty minutes. The final stage will last as long as it needs to, an expected hour, but may resolve itself much more quickly, depending on your team's abilities."

I felt a small chill chase down my spine. The idea of anything Hunger Games-related just 'resolving itself' sounded dark.

"For the first stage, you will notice the coloured spheres in each team's home. These each represent something you would use to build a fire. The yellow balls represent a log, the blue a shaft of kindling, and the red a sheet of paper." Hard grey eyes scanned the crowd. "I hope you were all paying attention during the fire building station at training this week, otherwise your team is already in trouble."

Suddenly it didn't feel like such an advantage to have the most Careers on my team. They hadn't set foot outside the weapon stations all week.

"The goal of the first round is to gather as much of each resource as you think necessary to build the best fire. Your team will be given unlimited matches, but not unlimited time, in the second stage, to build this fire. The goal of the entire game is to be the last team with a fire lit in their section. The other teams will be, obviously, trying to put your fire out. But that all comes much later. For now, you are trying to take as many spheres from the other teams as possible. But there are rules. First. You are safe from other teams inside their safe houses. _No one_ on the home team is allowed into their own safe zone. When there is a player inside the safe zone, members of the home team must remain three yards away from its edge." A ghostlike smile played on his lips. "It is up to the teams to be honest and fair, as there are no regulators or pieces of technology to enforce these rules. It is up to you to ensure that the game runs smoothly and remember, this all reflects on your ability to be a valuable member of an alliance or a promising Tribute in next week's Hunger Games." He paused, motioning to the sky around the arena. "Behind those walls are wealthy Capitol citizens as well as mentors. They are all interested in seeing what sort of Tributes you _really_ are." For a brief instant, the sky disappeared and was replaced by massive crowds, silent, but obviously shouting their fool heads off. "They can hear and see you, though you will likely forget they are there as the game progresses.

"Back to the rules. To get into a safe house, a Tribute must pass through that team's zone untouched. The other team will be trying to tag you, but as I said earlier, their window ends once you enter their safe house. Once there, you may take _one_ ball, and _only_ one ball, and attempt to take it back to your side, again, without being tagged. If you are tagged on your way into a zone, you are frozen where you are." At our wide-eyed looks, he clarified. "You stand still until you are unfrozen. If you are tagged on your way out _with_ a ball, you must return the ball to its safe house, and then you _must_ return immediately to your area. If you cross out of a zone, untouched, with a ball into the other team's zone, _not _belonging to you, you are not safe. If they tag you, the ball belongs to them, and again, you must return to your side. To unfreeze a teammate, you simply tag them without getting frozen yourself. At this point, both the unfrozen tribute and the teammate who freed them _must_ walk immediately back to their side. Anytime a tribute is walking back from being unfrozen, unfreezing a teammate, or returning a ball, they are safe and cannot be tagged." He surveyed us one last time, eyes hard. "Any questions?"

He was rewarded with silence.

"Good." He nodded. "you have ninety seconds to confer with your team about possible strategy."

With that we all raced off to our wedges and began talking.

"If we're trying to get a fire going, we're going to need to get lots of the red ones."

"Don't be ridiculous, they burn right out!"

"I'm probably the fastest, I'll go after the spheres!"

"You won't be the fastest if I break your legs!"

Thresh and I stood back, watching the arguments unfold. After about ten seconds though, Thresh was barely grinning and I had had enough.

"Okay, calm down!" I was once again thankful for my loud voice. _This is no time to be an airhead, Caerwyn, _a voice in my head pointed out. _Drop it. This is about winning._ I knew Fra and Bran would forgive me for turning into the real Caerwyn for a few hours. I could always bring it back, right? "Here's the thing." I said. "We need people to stay back on defense. We need people going out to get spheres, and we need people ready to unfreeze teammates." I turned to Erika. "You're from Seven, what should we do about fire building?"

Her chestnut eyes flashed at the recognition, and maybe also in surprise at the change in attitude. "If we want something burning for a long time, we'll need lots of yellow. But without blue it'll never get going strong, and without red, it'll never start at all."

I nodded. "Can I get a ratio?"

She looked thoughtful. "Maybe… two to three to one, yellow to blue to red? I don't know their sizes, so I can't be sure."

"That's perfect." I looked at the confused other Tributes. "Whoever is going for spheres, pay attention to that. For every red sphere, we will need two yellow and three blue. If you can manage that." They seemed to have gotten their heads on straight now.

The monstrous blond from two spoke up. "Who's going to get spheres?"

"I'm pretty quick, I'll do it." Domas spoke up quietly.

"We need fast people on defense too." Cato pointed out.

"But he's thin, and will be more evasive that way." I rebutted. "If you want a break then feel free to switch with someone."

Cato shot me a dark look, and I turned to face him. "You want to go on offense, I take it?"

He didn't answer, just narrowed his eyes.

I turned to look at Glimmer. "What do you want to do?"

"I'll go on defense." She grinned.

"Go for it." I moved on to Erika and Kyde. "you two. Any preferences?"

"Defense." They chorused. I thought this was a good choice, since they both looked very quick.

I turned to face Cato again, voice dry. "Looks like you'll get to be on offense after all." Thresh, Sorrel and I were the only ones left. Thresh opted for defense, and Sorrell joined Cato and Domas on offense.

"Will you take the rescuing job then?"

I shrugged at Cato's challenge. "Sure. If the opportunity arises I guess I'll go on offense, but I'm cool to do that."

We had only just finished when we heard a buzzer signaling the start of the game. Our team scattered immediately, each running off to do our prospective tasks. I noticed Glimmer tagging the boy from her district only steps before our safe house, grinning at her taunting laughter. Marvel looked slightly less than impressed, but she looked positively gleeful.

It wasn't long before Cato came flying back into our wedge, a yellow sphere lost in his massive hand. He cast a quick look in my direction before tossing the ball into our safe zone, jogging back towards one of the other team's zones.

I found myself right by the border facing into the third team's wedge. I stepped cautiously over the line, intrigued when no one even seemed to notice. I took a few steps back, turning to face back into my own zone. Erika tossed me a funny look, but I just kept watch.

"That kid's really fast, huh?"

I turned at the voice beside me. The boy from Nine pointed across at Domas, returning to our side with a red sphere.

"Yeah, for how small he is he's pretty good." I agreed, turning quickly away from the boy's face. I saw Erika trying to fight a giggle back in our wedge, seeing me conversing with the other team.

"Watch out for him." Nine turned and walked away. "I'll bet he'll be coming in here soon enough."

I turned and winked at Erika, retreating further into enemy territory. She held a finger to her lips, grinning and shaking her head.

I made my way stealthily but steadily towards team three's safe zone, looking as inconspicuous as possible. I was only a few steps away when I felt something massive slam into my right side, landing me flat on my back with a hulking form beside me.

He swore. "Why are you _walking?_" Cato moved to stand up, but my friend from Nine tagged him. If looks could kill, that boy would have disintegrated. Suddenly I felt a hand smack my shoulder, and I looked up to see Prim smiling down at me, almost impishly.

"Got ya, Cari."

Cato positively roared.

Nine looked from me to Prim, then to Cato. "Seriously? You weren't on our team?" He shook his head. "That was brutal. Well played, but brutal." He grinned and walked away, leaving me flat on my back beside a scowling Career.

I stood shakily, crossing my hands over my chest in a gesture only half meant to mock Cato's own stance. "It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm alright." I assured sarcastically.

He snorted. "Why the hell were you walking?"

"It's called stealth. You've probably never heard of it, it's a pretty novel idea."

And apparently, if looks could kill, I would be joining my good friend from Nine in the grave.

"You know we're never going to get saved way back here." He ground out.

I looked around at the field. We were set pretty far back from our zone. Anyone who made it this far would probably just go for a ball instead of rescuing either of us. "I don't know. They might come and get you once they start missing your stellar offense."

His jaw twitched. "You're not funny, Ten."

I laughed. "In all seriousness, you actually did do pretty well."

"I know."

"I think you're almost as good on offense as you are at being humble."

"I know."

I noticed the barest grin on his face and laughed again. "We're actually probably never going to get saved." I nodded. "Our sponsors must love us."

"I don't intend to let _this_ get in the way of my sponsors." He said evenly.

"Oh me neither. I'll tell them all it was your fault."

"_I _wasn't the one walking."

"And _I_ wasn't the one running with my eyes shut." I retorted. "How did you not see me?"

"I was looking a little higher."

"A short joke! Low blow, Cato, low blow."

He didn't respond, and I turned again to survey the field.

"It looks like we might be winning." I mentioned absently. "Judging by how many more Tributes seem to be trying to steal from us."

"We should be winning. We have the best team."

"Yeah I was pretty happy with it."

He looked over at me as if trying to gauge my sarcasm level. "Are you being serious?"

"Yeah. Even the traditionally weaker District kids are quality." I bit my tongue to keep from mentioning how _he,_ the top prospect Career, was currently standing frozen while the likes of Domas and Kyde racked up the points.

We both stopped silent when we saw Sorrel looking our way. I waved at her, noticing Cato's scowl had returned.

"She'll probably rescue me first." I said nonchalantly. Sorrel had started running towards us. "I was nice to her."

"I'll kill her."

"And then we'll be at a player disadvantage and it'll be all your fault." I tossed him a pointed look. "And _then_ where will your sponsors be?"

True to my prediction, between my closeness and Cato's winning attitude, I was the one unfrozen by our teammate.

"Don't worry, I'll be back." I tossed over my shoulder, jogging back to our side with the Career. "Thanks, by the way." I said to Sorrel.

"No problem." She looked back at Cato nervously. "He's going to be so angry."

"I'm sure he'll get over it." I turned back around, ready to rescue the thundercloud and the blond scowling beneath it. "I told him I'd go get him."

It was a little harder the second time to get that far back, but I discovered that by jumping between the wedges it took a lot longer for the teams to catch me, and I ended up reaching Cato without any major obstacles. We returned to our side, and that was the last I saw of him really until stage two.


End file.
